


A Song of IceCrotch and Firedick

by huffspuffsblows



Category: DOGS (Manga)
Genre: Badou's fantastic exit strategies, Heine would be a great detective some day, M/M, Shotgunning, too bad about the emotional constipation and zero pussy sailing effort, totally smooth babe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffspuffsblows/pseuds/huffspuffsblows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Heine is a sandy vagina as usual and Badou's an embarrassing twat with smooth moves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song of IceCrotch and Firedick

**Author's Note:**

> It's been 84 years since I've written these two dicks impliedly touching dicks. Or lips. Same diff.

When all was said and done, when the sirens [when the po po weren't too cheap to crank em on in an emergency anyway, had to save on those pesky bills] were evaded, when their footfalls carried them far enough to not get sniffed out, Heine finally expressed what had been compelling for him for about half an hour now.

"I've never seen a booger fly that far before. A head shot is a grand accomplishment, Badou-kun." From his perch beside his partner on the cracked sidewalk [chalk body outlines and cracking mama's backs just don't make it the same no more] Heine Rammsteiner could feel the moderately murderous one eyed glower burning into his face without turning his head to look. But he did anyway, just to smirk his fuck-all smug grin [show casing every single one of those razor sharp pearly whites for some consistency] and add, "It reminds me of that sneeze in Hall Pass. Maaaaaan. That shit'll go down in history. What a hard boiled story to tell your grandchildren."

Badou C. Nails, badass extraordinaire didn't really know where to start, but it had to be somewhere. "Fuck you, assdouche! That was NOTHING like that piss poor excuse for visual art! Shit only hit the walls in a proverbial way, thanks to your cockbrained scheme. I told you not to fucking sit on my dick. I'm allergic to mangy mutts, clearly."

Huffing and puffing, the redhead fished around in his pocket to retrieve his lighter and a crumpled pack of cigarettes that have seen better days. Raising the precious resource of dick saving sanity to his mouth with bloodied fingers, he took a hit and sighed, long and deep.

"Besides, we got the job done, we're gonna get paid. We've proved time and time again we can come through in a pinch in the nuts. Business ain't gonna flourish if you do that Debbie Down on Ronnie's Cock routine, brah. The bright side is, it's over, and we're fuckin' badasses." A moment of consideration, green eye trained on crimson, soulfully, deeply, madly, truly. "Well, _I'm_ a badass. You're still a silent clunge killer, standing there laughin' when those fuckers planted a shoe in my goddamn Adonis nose. I even created a diversion, now that's a monumental movie scene."

He let out another sigh [you know the kind, the shuddery ones you get after you've finished crying or laughing so hard you cry. Which he had, along with waterfalls of sweet, sweet urine], but his lips quirked gratefully around the familiar shape of the cigarette and his shoulders had even un-tensed a tick. The lines of horror were beginning to fade from his face [except for the permanent _cryscreamshriekhowlmadmadlaugh_ lines around his stupid mouth] and the wrinkle between his brows that looks like someone's shitty cleavage lessened with each puff.

"The only thing this has proved is that your sandy vagina is a lot less reliable than your pig nose. Not to mention you are a walking movie cliche. It's embarrassing as fuck to be an extra in this production."

It was times like these the albino wondered about the method of soothing the savage beast via nicotine and poison. He was, damned if he'd admit, curious. He's seen those measly sticks pull his partner back from the brink of shitstorms. It smelled awful and probably tasted just as fuckawful, but maybe he could see eye to eye on this whole thing, once and for all. Were drugs or were drugs not bad M'Mkay? On the other hand, Badou is a ratched ass fuck up so it was only natural something like that would prove to be theraputic. Perhaps it was a mixture of firedick and nicotene, that was the chemical jack pot?

During Heine's inner vagina monologues, Badou had taken to bitching half heartedly once more, his voice colored with humor. "If you were an extra in this cuntin' movie I wouldn't even cast you as the stunt double with the nip slips. Useless ass."

"Hey." Heine piped in, prompt to stop the next rise in the plot twist: The script writing of one Badou C. Nails. The day had ended spectacularly stupid enough without that anal fissure hassle. Badou shot him a quizzical look and nearly took it back [but not quite, he was just telling the truth. Something he learned back in the day], and attempted to sooth his co-twerker with a placating tone, all spirit weary sighs, like they'd been over this before. [They probably have]

"Look mang, you and I both know your nipples are creepy as fuck. They look like little pale pepperoni slices. Super models envy that kind of titty suction." He did his best, no regrets. Except for never courting a hand model in his prime.

"Give me a hit of that." Left those thin fish lips instead of a chastising about nipples. Badou took a moment to proof read and analyze [in one of those fucking dick gobbling five page essays] the other man's expression. A strange glint shined in those eyes. A glint that wasn't homicidal or gassy. Releasing a plume of smoke with his tongue along with a skeptical chuckle, Badou cuts right to the cheese of the matter.

"Eat a dick. Fuck no. Do you know what I went through to crawl back from Satan's asshole an get me one'a these?" Jaw set, Badou scoffed. "Of course you do, you stood there laughing you mondo cock! You and your sudden delinquent terrible twenty somethings sure picked a shitty time to spring forth from the depths of your icy heart." Seriously, what the hell was up with this guy? He didn't look feverish...while Badou was getting his ass reamed he didn't see the guy get forced to his knees for anything uncouth and logic altering. What gives. "Anyway, even if I looked into the goodness of my goddamn heart, shotgunning would be good enough for you. None of the real shit."

Then, to rub it in, the bastard pressed his tongue cheekily against his teeth, wrinkled his blood crusted nose, and took another leisurely inhale of his favorite poison. Badou fully expected his partner to brush it off with some dainty bitching and they'd go back to their pissing contest.

"Suit yourself, nut sauce." What he didn't expect was for slender fingers to dig into his jump suit and pull him flush against Heine's knees, that mouth that had [Hotl.....y?] ripped some fucker's lip off looming ever closer. Thus Badou could only squawk like a mating goose in surprise and exhale a plume of smoke once Heine's mouth sealed over his.

It was awkward and sloppy, Heine's tongue curling around his and drawing the smoke and probably his pension and soul with it, their noses squashed together with various whimpers of pain at least twice [and the growl of the beast], and Badou isn't sure when exactly in the middle of it all a hand cupped his ass, but when all is said and done [again] they pulled away panting, a string of saliva connecting their very soulful gaze. Their heads may or may not have been a little swimmy afterwards.

"Jeeesus tap dancin' titty's Christ dude. Do you shot gun your test tube mama with that mouth?" Badou finally managed wheezily, face entirely too warm [damn Lack of Cunting Four Seasons hotel] and eye all too quickly avoiding Heine's gaze.

"No." Heine was a fountain of wisdom and wit, as usual. Calm, composed, pink in the cheeks himself. He wiped his mouth, certain now that he was correct in his assumption. Also that shotgunning is terrible and only dumbasses do it.

"Good, cause she'd be offended to the dickens. Probably cry and break shit. You did it wrong."

Heine's kneck must have felt the whiplash as he turned to face his partner, brows furrowed in distress, or gas, a challenging expression morphing his features. "Yeah? I'd like to see you do so much better you cocky cock."

Badou rolled his eye, tone dripping with pure disdain to distract them both with his bullshit rather than his flaming cheeks. "Gee, I've _only_ been smokin' since I was ten, how _ever_ could I know what the fuck I'm doin'. Talk about embarrassin'. It'd be against the guy code not to teach you not to make an ass outta yourself this one time." Damn him, he was crooking his fucking finger at Heine like he was a dog or a hamster or something. Dickhole.

However, Heine did scoot closer, if only to get it over with, frowning in complete displeasure. His eyes never left the cigarette dangling between Badou's lips as he inhaled and exhaled smoke easy peasy.

"Open that stanky mouth of yours," Badou rumbled huskily, and fuck, that sent a jolt up Heine's borrowed spine as he did as instructed [because he wanted to, not because he was told to, eat a chode], awaiting the purely scientific and not bonerific theory.

Boney fingers took him by the chin, the scent of smoke and salt and earth entered unbidden into Heine's nose as Badou leaned in, and his eyes were, for some reason, drawn to the blood crusted and drying on the redhead's hand just before the first wisp of smoke blew into his mouth.

All he could do was inhale their now shared breath gently, eyes flickering back to the content expression rivaling the smug asshole undertones of his partner's expression. All droopy eyed and confidant, the fucker. Now wasn't the time to have a change of character.

Somehow, when they broke apart, Heine's hand had found it's way into those greasy crimson locks, and Badou's fingers had similarly kept vigil grasping Heine's face. He still felt swimmy, and the nicotine surged through his veins, but over all it wasn't half bad.

At the lack of sassy ass response, Badou smirked and chuckled. "Yeah, I know I'm _that_ fuckin' good. Guess I cured your fear of sandy vaginas too. _Hallelujah! Praise the firedick, laaaaawd_!" He dissolved into cackles.

"Not really. I just didn't stay in school and drugs lowered my standards," Heine quipped all too readily and tugged a lock of Badou's hair for emphasis. The squawk that followed was music to his ears, helping in reverting some shit back to normalcy. Normal for them, anyway. "Best two out of three?"

Badou's lips quirked excitedly around the cigarette. "Why Princess Icecrotch, allow me to have this dance."

Yep, Heine's hunch was right. The chemistry between nicotine, smokey tongue dueling, and a loud ass ginger was all the rage these days. That was the appeal. The report would have to wait on greedy mouths much later.


End file.
